


Wrong

by MWolfe13



Series: HHRollADrabble Collection [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Evil Hermione, F/M, Twisted Fairytale, Violence, rapunzel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 15:56:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20914703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MWolfe13/pseuds/MWolfe13
Summary: Everything was all wrong now.





	Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> April 20, 2019 RAD for Hermione's Haven
> 
> Extremely late, but here it is! I warned for graphic descriptions of violence, but it's not Sparta or Attack on Titan bad.

**Pairing: Hermione x Neville**

**Theme: Twisted Fairytale: Rapunzel**

Where had it all gone wrong?

Neville led the company of men assigned to him to lead the charge against the enemy in the once-abandoned tower. There were ten in total, all older battle-hardened men the King had handpicked to subdue the creature they hunted. 

To kill his daughter.

The Princess Hermione had been his best friend,  _ was _ his first and most important friend. They’d grown up together, faced their trials together, shared their triumphs with each other. Never in his deepest fears and thoughts had he thought he’d be in this position. He’d dreamed of becoming the most respected knight in the realm. One day he’d leave to destroy a monster threatening the lives of the citizens they both loved and maybe, just maybe, the Princess would see him as more than her childhood friend when he came back victorious.

It was all wrong now. The monster was the Princess, and he’d been sent to destroy her.

The tower was one of the oldest buildings in the country; evidenced by the sun-bleached stone and the uncontrolled vine growing through the cracks. No one remembered who had once owned it or why it had been built. For as long as Neville could remember, the imposing structure had been a forbidden place that he and Hermione would escape to when the princess was tired of her lessons. He remembered being so scared of the deserted tower at first before they had turned it into a cherished retreat.

Those memories were tarnished by what his princess had become, but Neville should have known this was the place she chose to run to. It gave him a tiny amount of hope, even though he knew it shouldn’t, that his Hermione was still in there somewhere.

They discovered the entrance to the tower was sealed, the only other entry at the top where a single large window rested. Neville had been prepared for this outcome and gave his men the order to start climbing. There were plenty of handholds for the soldiers to climb, but they used special axes to make their way up. They knew every man would be needed to bring her down. Falling to their deaths was not an option.

Neville was the last to reach the window, staying at the bottom of everyone else in the event someone  _ did _ slip. The men were looking above their heads with fearful expressions. Neville could understand why. Piles of hair hung over them like one big spider web, the brown strands moving with the breeze and almost crackling with magic. The stories of soft strands coiling like snakes and striking with precision had struck fear into many. It was said that once the evil monster had you in her grasp, her hair squeezed until your brains leaked out of your ears. He and his company had passed a decimated village not far from here, one where all the adult men had been hung from a tree by silky brown hair, their eyes bulging from the sockets in death.

It had not been a pretty sight. 

Princess Hermione was nowhere in sight, but she was around, watching them. Steeling himself, Neville unsheathed his sword, ready to do his duty to his kingdom.

They failed. Miserably.

Neville watched helplessly, hands bound on either side of him while hair he’d once ran his fingers through circled his neck and forced his head forward. The last of the men that came with him struggled on the ground, struggling feebly as he was strangled without mercy. He couldn’t imagine the thoughts running through that soldier’s head, the terror he must feel in his final moments. He closed his eyes when the man’s body stopped jerking, eyes lolling to the side with fear still on his features.

It was his turn. He was the only one left.

His eyes opened with resolution, maintaining his composure when he found Hermione staring at him. She was right in front of him, looking at him with her cold eyes, mouth pressed in a firm line.

“It was smart of him to send you,” she commented. “If anyone was going to succeed in killing me, it might have been you.” She smirked. “What was he hoping for? The mighty Neville would slay the creature he once professed he loved with all his heart?”

“I did love you,” he said quietly. The hair around his neck tightened.

Her smirk fell. “You don’t try and kill the ones you claim to love. You could have stood with me instead of my pathetic father.”

“I made a vow, Mione.” His use of her childhood nickname had them both flinching. “Never did I think you’d become one of the monsters from our storybooks.” He glared at her.

Hermione sucked in a breath at his words, face blanking of all expression at his hateful gaze. She leaned forward until her mouth was by his ear. He could smell the combination of scents that were so uniquely Hermione, his heart aching that it was now associated with the corrupted woman before him. “You know the funny thing about storybooks? They never  _ once _ explain how the villain came to be the big bad everyone fears. It  _ never _ says how the good guys are not as good as everyone believes. The victor gets to dictate history, and I fully intend to be the  _ only _ victor when this war is done.”

  
  



End file.
